


the vital importance of being earnest

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (I mean if it's not it's def NOT FOR CERSEI FANS), Acting, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Cersei Lannister Bashing, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Jaime x Brienne Week 2020, References to Oscar Wilde, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, justiceformelara, minor melara/edmure tully bc I'm captaining that ship, your teeth honestly will roth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26895100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: “It was the minimum,” he sighs, not quite looking at her. “She just was out of line.”“Do you know how many times I’ve been told those things until now?”“… No?”“Too many to count. And that was the first time anyone actually stood up for me, so yes, let me tell you, that was exceedingly kind of you and you should maybe, you know, take some credit for it.”He shrugs again. “I mean. No one’s ever told me that either. Except my brother maybe, but… not like that. We don’t really do healthy communication where I come from.”or: in which Brienne gets cast in the school play over Cersei and it ends up being a very, very good thing.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 33
Kudos: 180
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Week 2020





	the vital importance of being earnest

**Author's Note:**

> HAVE THE SECOND LATE ENTRY FOR POOR DELAYED JBWEEK - this one was originally supposed to be for day two and both its prompts, _envy/kindness_ , with much thanks to ao3 user totemundtabu for the plot help ;; and honestly... most of this thing is pure 100% tooth-rotting fluff. re the **warning** note above which is the only not-fluffy thing about this: at the beginning cersei insults brienne in terms that are a) canon-like misogynist b) transphobic which imvho are exactly in line with her character and were also directly inspired from stuff I read about brienne from certain sides of c. fandom around the internet/that I got personally sent, so you're warned if that might be triggering/upsetting, just scroll down until Jaime's reply as soon as Brienne is cast if you'd rather avoid it.
> 
> Other than that, the title is... pretty obviously taken from the play they're doing and I own zilch and I'll now go post the last late entry. Have fun /o\ <3333 *saunters back downwards*

To Brienne’s credit — is it even the right word, she’s not sure she could call it _credit_ , but honestly, how else is she even supposed to put the current clusterfuck in any terms? —, she has gone out of her way to _not_ have contact with Cersei Lannister for the whole four years she’s been in the same school as her, and she also might have gone out of her way to not talk to her brother beyond the basics needed when it came to being in the same football team _exactly_ to avoid further drama, or… any drama in the first place.

It’s not like she’s an idiot. She knows that she’s here on a scholarship that she can only maintain if she has spotless grades in every subject, she knows her father couldn’t afford to keep her enrolled if she lost even just part of it, and she also knows that finishing her studies in this nest of vipers _will_ look good when applying for university, therefore it was in everyone’s best interest that she steered absolutely clear of anyone named Lannister in her orbit. Sure, it also meant that no one wanted to be friends with _her_ , but then again no one did even at any time before now. She’s fine hanging out with Renly and Loras from her previous school when she can manage as far as she’s concerned — also, it’s not like _anyone_ in Cersei’s orbit would want to be friends with her in the first place even if Cersei didn’t obviously dislike her presence just on principle.

Brienne has spent all her time here _not giving a damn_ and she had been looking forward to enjoying freedom from her stares when Cersei _finally_ graduates, being two years older than Brienne herself and so on…

Except that apparently it wasn’t meant to be, and Brienne is cursing herself all over — if she had just minded her own business as usual she’d be most likely enjoying her afternoon with a decent book or catching up on her math homework with good music… but no, she _couldn’t_.

She had to apply for the fucking theater club.

Admittedly, she _had_ to because her scholarship hinges on obtaining a certain number of credits outside regular classes, and before then she always made do with the swimming team, except that she injured her arm before Christmas vacations and she was told to avoid straining it for the next few months, and since the theater club only runs in the second semester and was the only other activity with open applications at that point, it’s not like she had much choice.

Now, she had figured she’d just… do the heavy lifting or help out with the technical stuff when she applied. She hadn’t even presumed to _act_ — it never interested her, she doesn’t care to be made fun of and _that_ would just make it worse. So she had showed up with a general application, except that since they’re apparently underfunded even considering how much money costs to go to _this_ school, the teachers in charge had decided to review all applications _and_ do auditions on the same day.

So, she had ended up in the middle of the auditions for said play, which this year is _The Importance of Being Earnest_ , and she had seen Mr. Connington, the teacher in charge of the auditions, frown _a lot_ when Cersei and Jaime had both showed up — from what she gathers, they’re set on playing Jack and Gwendolene, but Cersei has said something about the other main role being acceptable if not preferable when Brienne was in her hearing range. She hadn’t been entirely sure she wanted to know what it was about, and so she ignored it. Mr. Connington had definitely asked Cersei if she was sure about _that_ role and she replied _I told you once, didn’t I_ , and since the other teacher in charge of the technical side of things, Mr. Baratheon, hadn’t gotten to _her_ application yet, Brienne had been stuck with the other people auditioning for behind the scenes stuff watching it go down.

Now: Jaime had nailed it — he had been good at the role, he obviously had the skills, he _could_ act for being barely eighteen, and Mr. Connington had nodded all along whenever _he_ was going through his scene.

Cersei, on the other side…

The scene they had to do was part of the proposal in act one, and while Brienne’s certainly no theater expert and no one would most likely expect breathtaking performances from anyone in high school, Cersei had overacted her way throughout the whole thing and Brienne had winced with the entirety of the rest of the people in the entire place at how she pretty much shouted _it does not thrill_. Also, in comparison to Jaime, the way she moved on stage was just… clunky, for lack of a better word, and from the way Mr. Connington was shaking his head, Brienne knew she was _not_ getting that role, as much as it might piss her off.

She really _did not_ envy Mr. Connington, in that moment.

At that point he had cleared his throat and asked Cersei to read for Cecily — he already had chosen Algernon before, it’s Edmure Tully, and for a moment Brienne feels bad for the guy. He’s one of the few genuinely nice guys in Cersei and Jaime’s year and he’s never been an arse to _her_ whenever they crossed paths at the local homeless shelter where she volunteers with his mother, and having Cersei as a love interest wouldn’t be anything she’d wish on him.

Cersei actually had seemed to take it as a compliment, except that her reading for Cecily had also been terrible — if she couldn’t do confident and assured lady, she _certainly_ couldn’t do innocent ward either, and while, again, Brienne has maybe seen a movie or two concerning this play and has seen in theater once and is therefore _not_ an expert, she had been fairly sure that it would be hard to deliver a _you are under some strange mistake. I am not little. In fact, I believe I am more than usually tall for my age_ that sounded more wooden than what she had heard the moment Cersei and Edmure started acting.

So, she had kept her mouth shut while thinking that Cersei was honestly not fit for acting period, but they’d take her anyway because of her surname, so she’d just — wait for her turn.

Except that then her former friend Melara Hetherspoon — they had a falling out a few months ago, Brienne doesn’t know how or why but the girl has been on her own since and Cersei has definitely made _her_ life hell, and she has been tempted to approach her at times but… well, she’s had bad experiences all the times she tried such a thing, so now she’s holding back on it — had gone and tried for Cecily and she had _nailed_ it. Also, she and Edmure actually had… chemistry, pretty much, and so Mr. Connington had said that she definitely was cast, and — Cersei had looked livid.

Figures she would.

Brienne, who had _almost_ arrived at the end of her line, had shrugged, assuming that he’d also cast Cersei for Gwendolene after all, because most of the other girls who had tried for that role had flown the room the moment they saw the concurrence, and the few who had stayed hadn’t been that great at it either. Not like she could blame them — no one wanted to be on Cersei’s bad side, especially after the falling out with Melara.

But _then_ —

“Tarth!” Mr. Connington had called out.

“Uh, yes?” She had replied, turning towards him.

“I know you’re not… auditioning,” he had said, looking at her, “but you were in the swimming team with _him_ , weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Brienne had nodded, “but —”

“It’s just, I don’t think anyone had the right… approach to the role and I would like _both_ my couples to have some semblance of chemistry. Would you mind reading that scene?”

Thing is —

She should have said no.

But Mr. Connington had looked _sincere_ and honestly, Brienne would trust most teachers over her classmates when it comes to not humiliating her in public. Jaime was actually looking at her like he wouldn’t mind either way, and Cersei had stared at her like she would have obliterated her from existence if she could…

And _someone_ had thought _she_ could be a choice for… well.

 _That_ part.

A lady. Who’d wear _dresses_. That the protagonist actually pursued from moment one.

A part of her she thought died when Hyle Hunt and his friends asked her out on a bet in third grade suddenly had sprung back to life and said, _just go for it_.

“No,” she had answered, “I wouldn’t mind.”

So she had gone on stage and taken a script, her hands shaking a tiny bit.

“From _charming day_ onwards,” Mr. Connington had said.

“Charming day it has been, Miss Fairfax,” Jaime had said, clearing his throat, a perfect picture of confidence, same as he used to be in the swimming pool. Brienne, _knowing_ that she was not supposed to sound like some blushing maiden, had tried to not sound like one when replying.

“Pray don’t talk to me about the weather, Mr. Worthing. Whenever people talk to me about the weather, I always feel quite certain that they mean something else. And that makes me so nervous,” she has said, moving a bit closer, holding the script tight in between her fingers.

“I do mean something else,” he had replied, _winking_ , and fuck but he was _born_ for this, wasn’t he —

“I thought so. In fact, I am never wrong,” she replied, using the same tone she broke out whenever anyone doubted her skills at sports or her place on the swimming team through the years.

“And I would like to be allowed to take advantage of Lady Bracknell’s temporary absence . . .” He had moved closer, still holding the script, but holding out a free hand. Oh. _Oh_.

“I would certainly advise you to do so. Mamma has a way of coming back suddenly into a room that I have often had to speak to her about,” she had replied, and let her fingers brush his for a moment, marveling at how warm they felt and really, _really_ glad she didn’t have to look at him in the eyes right then.

“Miss Fairfax, ever since I met you I have admired you more than any girl . . . I have ever met since . . . I met you.” He sounded sincere. He sounded _so_ sincere —

“Yes, I am quite well aware of the fact,” she had quipped back, hoping she sounded as confident as the role required. “And I often wish that in public, at any rate, you had been more demonstrative. For me you have always had an irresistible fascination. Even before I met you I was far from indifferent to you.” Which — is kind of true. She _had_ thought he was… remarkable, before they ended up in the same team. She just, never pursued it. “We live, as I hope you know, Mr Worthing, in an age of ideals. The fact is constantly mentioned in the more expensive monthly magazines, and has reached the provincial pulpits, I am told; and my ideal has always been to love some one of the name of Ernest. There is something in that name that inspires absolute confidence. The moment Algernon first mentioned to me that he had a friend called Ernest, I knew I was destined to love you.”

"You really love me, Gwendolen?” Fuck, she had wished he didn’t sound _that_ into it.

“Passionately!” She had quipped back, figuring that saying it the way she had imagined she’d say it one day to… someone who’d actually like her might do the trick.

“Darling! You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.”

“My own Ernest!”

“But you don’t really mean to say that you couldn’t love me if my name wasn’t Ernest?”

“But your name is Ernest.”

“Yes, I know it is. But supposing it was something else? Do you mean to say you couldn’t love me then?” He had sounded _distraught_ about it. Fuck, he _was_ good at acting. Brienne had stumbled through the following exchange trying to not let her voice shake, calling Ernest _a divine name with music of its own that produces vibrations_ doing… well, again, imagining the way she’s have pronounced the name of any eventual guy she might like and who’d like her back, who at this point in her life had assumed a rather mythical aspect in her fantasies.

Until —

“Well, really, Gwendolen, I must say that I think there are lots of other much nicer names. I think Jack, for instance, a charming name,” Jaime had said.

Brienne, entirely aware of the fact that _this_ is the line she had to deliver decently, had taken a breath and figured that she should just… try to say it plainly. As if it was the only option in existence and marrying someone named differently was not a thing she could even conceive.

“Jack? . . . No, there is very little music in the name Jack, if any at all, indeed. It does not thrill. It produces absolutely no vibrations . . . I have known several Jacks, and they all, without exception, were more than usually plain. Besides, Jack is a notorious domesticity for John! And I pity any woman who is married to a man called John. She would probably never be allowed to know the entrancing pleasure of a single moment’s solitude. The only really safe name is Ernest,” she had said, not overdoing it, not making it too caricatural or so she hoped, and so what if she had risked holding Jaime’s hand properly while doing it?

It’s not as if she’d have had another chance, after all.

There had been silence after that.

Then Mr. Connington had cleared her throat and Brienne had looked at Jaime and saw that he looked impressed, for — _how_ would he, and —

“I think,” he says, “that while you can definitely work on the body language, the delivery was the best I’ve heard yet. Fancy getting your credits by actually starring?”

She _should_ have refused, if she had wanted to keep her head down and her relations drama-free… except that _for once_ someone seemed to actually mean it and Jaime didn’t look so upset at that notion, and so she had thought, _fuck it_ , and replied —

“All right,” she had said, “all right, if you’re sure I’ll do it.”

For a moment, Mr. Connington had looked relieved and Jaime had looked… well, not disappointed, and Melara had looked also relieved, but Brienne figured she didn’t fancy being cast with Cersei now, would she —

And then Cersei had opened her mouth and Brienne remembered all the reasons why she had _not_ pursued any kind of contact with her.

“Are you _seriously_ ,” she had said, “choosing that cow over me?”

Brienne _had_ honestly expected that. She’s also been called worse than that. She also knows that’s how Cersei refers to her whenever she has any reason to, she has overheard the gossip. She had been ready to just shrug and not mind it, as usual. And then before anyone else can talk, Cersei opens her mouth again and Brienne honestly doesn’t want to know what is it now that she has to complain about, and maybe she should have just not taken the role, but —

“Never mind that have you even _looked_ at her? How do you presume she’s a halfway decent fit for this kind of role? For what you know and for what I’m seeing you could be casting a man with badly kept long hair. Actually, now that I look better I might be wondering if —”

Now.

It’s… not the first time that happens.

It stopped feeling personally hurtful a while ago — oh, she _hates_ it when people take a look at her and immediately assume things, but it’s been a staple of her life since _before_ she grew as tall as she is, so she had made peace with it. But the way she says it and the not so subtle implications — shit, the dismissive tone and the sneer she has on her full (but not too much) lips clad in red lipstick that she could never afford to wear lest people didn’t let her live that down are _really_ fucking getting to her, never mind that she knows exactly what the fuck she implied, and she’s ready to give her a piece of her mind, except that then _Jaime_ starts talking before Brienne can do it.

“What the _fuck_ , Cersei?” He says, and now he sounds _angry_ , what the —

“Oh, are you defending her now? Or maybe I should say _him_ , all things —”

“I was on the swimming team with _her_ for a long damned while,” Jaime says, “and — are you even listening to yourself? _You_ insisted for us to do this thing when I said I barely even cared, she pulled that off way better than you did, and — I know it’s fucking useless to tell you at this point and I only accepted to avoid arguing with you for the next six months, but _what the fuck_? She’s not a _cow_ and I get that you have to parrot all the bullshit our father says regardless of what _you_ think but assuming shit based on how someone looks is just low and it’s not your place to decide anything. Just — accept that she’s better than you at this when it was obvious and if you’re envious you can just deal with it.”

“Me, being envious of _that_? Please. And what nonsense —”

“Will you fucking _stop_ talking about people as they’re not _people_ or what, because I can’t hear that any more, for —”

Mr. Connington clears his throat as Jaime’s voice raises and _thankfully_ everyone stops talking at once, good because Brienne thinks she’s going to fucking faint here —

“I think,” he says, “that anyone who has _not_ passed this audition can leave the premises. Miss Lannister, if you’re _that_ bent on being in this play, I suppose you couldn’t do too bad with Miss Prism in comparison to the others, but if you chose to go for it I don’t want to see you for the next week or so, because _this_ would deserve to be on your record but I know it would be useless. _Anyway_ , that was unacceptable, both calling her like that and the frankly worrying implications of what you just spewed out, so if I were you I would think about it. Also, when I was younger I starred in a production of this play where every single actor was a man one evening and a woman the next — the beauty of theater is that you can cast whoever the hell you want in whichever role, most times, and in this case I would rather cast _her_ over you. Now, would you be so kind to leave the premises?”

Brienne just — stands still and watches the scene as Cersei turns tails and says she’s not starring in this joke of a play, and slams the door on the way out.

She’s also sure anyone else would have been at least called to the principal’s for such a scene, but considering how much money her father donates on top of the tuition, she knows she won’t be. Still —

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “I could have handled it, but —”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Connington says. “She might be who she is, but I’m still in charge here. Anyway, I need to, uh, finish the auditions and help out with the technical ones since I think I have most of the roles bar the governess, but I’ll think about it and _some_ of you will get called. Keep that script, you can start learning the lines. If you two want a chat, you’re free for the afternoon.”

If —

Oh.

Jaime is looking at her with half-flushed cheeks now and he looks like he really wants to be out of here.

“Sure,” she says. “Uhm. Should we… if you want to,” she blurts, and Jaime nods immediately and tells her that he knows a place.

She follows him out.

 _A place_ is a small coffee shop two blocks from their school, which is… discreet and actually half-empty. She gets a tea, he gets a coffee and they sit down at the first free table before he takes a breath and says nothing, but she can see that his fingers are wrapped too tight around the cup and he’s not meeting her eyes.

“You know,” she says, “if it’s about what she said… it’s all right. It’s nothing I haven’t heard. But — you were very kind in telling her off.”

He snorts at that, taking a sip from his cup. “I wasn’t,” he says, “I just did what I should have done years ago. I never — I never managed to tell her off, but after what she did to Melara, I just — I couldn’t, and she kept on brushing me off like whatever I had to say wasn’t worth her time, and — this was just — bad. Fuck, who calls other people a cow?”

“Most pretty girls around who don’t like... not pretty girls,” Brienne shrugs. “It’s not the first time I heard that. Nor, well. The other thing.”

Jaime _winces_ at that. “I mean. That’s… let’s just say our father is hardly tolerant nor conceiving that, uhm, anything that’s not straight out of Victorian era, when it comes to… well. Someone’s gender identity. Or sexuality. Fuck, this is probably coming out wrong, but —”

“Hey,” she says, hearing that he’s about to go into a panic over that, “first of all, _chill_. If that’s how your father’s like and how _she_ is like, you’re miles ahead of them.”

“Well, thanks,” he snorts, drinking another shot of coffee. “I just — she’s like _that_ and she had no right to tell you that crap, but — what I wanted to say is that even — I wouldn’t have had a problem if — I mean, you’re not a _guy_ and even if she was right you wouldn’t have been…? Fuck, I’m sorry, this is really —”

“Jaime, for — _calm down_? It’s fine, I know you’re not an asshole and I’ve been in that team with you long enough to know it, I honestly don’t know how you managed to not turn out like an asshole if that’s where you come from and like… I don’t care what she thinks because she’s not the first nor the last to call me like that because of how I look, I care that she thinks that any of that bullshit has some sense. Never mind that it’s not like assuming that gender and sex are the same thing _and_ insulting other women based on how they look at the same time is helpful to literally anyone except people who think _that_ , so.” She shrugs. “What I mean is, _she_ is terrible and thinks like a bigoted eighteenth century guy who thinks women only have value if they look… well, _pretty_ , and if they do what they’re supposed to according to their lot. _You_ don’t and again, it was… kind of you to say something, so.”

“It was the minimum,” he sighs, not quite looking at her. “She just was out of line.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve been told those things until now?”

“… No?”

“Too many to count. And that was the first time _anyone_ actually stood up for me, so _yes_ , let me tell you, that was _exceedingly_ kind of you and you should maybe, you know, take _some_ credit for it.”

He shrugs again. “I mean. No one’s ever told me _that_ either. Except my brother maybe, but… not like _that_. We don’t really do healthy communication where I come from.”

 _I can believe that_ , Brienne doesn’t say. “Well,” she says, “there’s a first time for everything. And maybe —” She stops, drinks her tea, then looks at him again, figuring that at this point it’s now or never and it’s useless to tell herself she hasn’t been a bit in love with him since he shut up half of the guys in the swimming team who were objecting to _her_ being in it at this point, “— if we’re playing those roles, maybe we could… see each other to practice sometimes? If you’re fine with it, of course, if not —”

At that, his shoulders do lose a bit of stiffness as he looks at her with those pretty green eyes of his and smiles just a tiny bit.

“Sure I am,” he says, “I think I could do with seeing people that aren’t my siblings.”

“… You don’t see _anyone else_?” Brienne asks. “Not even —”

“As stated,” Jaime says, “my father has ideas about who we should spend time with. All of Cersei’s friends are… well. Rich, so he’s fine with that. Everyone _I_ ever presumed to befriend never was good enough for him except for the swimming team guys and I hate all of them. And — my brother’s better off because my father straight-up hates him so he can’t care less.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Brienne says, “that’s bad. You know that?”

“I’m trying to do something about it, am I not?”

“Well then,” she says, “I don’t really see that many people beyond two friends from my previous school, so. I guess we can both do better than we are right now.”

“Cheers to that,” Jaime replies, and when he smiles at her, ever so slightly, before finishing his coffee… it might be a practiced grin, but the look in his eyes doesn’t lie, not really, and — fuck. Either this goes terribly bad or she’s gaining a friend out of it, _at least_.

She’s not going to think about how knowing Mr. Connington they _will_ have to kiss on stage even if it’s not written down that they should because he’s _always_ put on plays where if something was written one way to avoid censorship, he _would_ have people playing it the opposite.

And the worst (or best?) thing is… she doesn’t think she’ll say no if it’s the case.

Still.

Maybe they should worry about _practicing_ first.

Then she’ll see.

***

“Ten quid that he’s kissing her for real before the first show,” Melara says, handing Edmure the bill.

“You _sure_?” He asks back, looking at the stage where both Lannister and Tarth are flirting like they’re on one of the horrid telenovelas his older sister Lysa can’t apparently quit. “Because I think they’re enough of two goddamned idiots that they’ll hold on until then and they’ll lock lips _then_ and they’ll be the only two surprised ones in the audience.”

“I mean,” she concedes, “you have a point. I just don’t think they can hold on _that_ long.”

Edmure stares at them again, moving closer, _almost_ kissing and then not doing it and moving back like someone burned them.

He shakes his head. “Melara,” he says, “did I ever tell you how glad I am that neither of us was _that_ kind of moron when it came to figure our shit out?”

She laughs. She’s most likely thinking about how the both of them ended up savagely making out in the nearest bathroom after the third rehearsal, but then again it turned out _she_ had been eyeing him since the auditions and he kind of always had a crush on her but never got around to actually _say_ anything about it… until it became obvious from how she was acting.

And he _can_ get a hint.

“Oh,” she says, her hand slipping into his, “you haven’t, but I’m _so_ glad of that, too.”

Lannister and Tarth are _still_ staring at each other after taking a moment, Mr. Connington telling them that they _can_ actually be a bit more handsy with each other. Tarth _blushes_. Hard. Lannister isn't quite looking at her.

“Bloody disasters,” Edmure says. “I still think they’re holding on until the actual first show.”

“Well, good thing for us _we_ didn’t.”

“Absolutely,” he says, “and oh, you might want to know that my elder sister is still in touch with the school magazine coordinator.” Catelyn was one of the man’s favorite students, back in the day, which is why they still talk once in a while.

“What for?”

“Because she informed me that Cersei has tried to bribe him since the auditions so that they’d publish some anonymous article from _her_ where she protests about the unfair casting process.”

“… Seriously?”

“Yes. Of course he told her no all the times, but I think he hasn’t told her to go back to her actual classes just because her family still hands out one generous donation each year.”

“She _really_ is dead envious, isn’t she?”

He nods. “Honesty, it would be hilarious if those two actually figured things out.”

“Hey, it’s a month until the first show. We can hope.”

Edmure nods, pocketing the money.

No way those emotionally stunted idiots are going to fess up before then.

 _No bloody way_.

***

“Wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Brienne _kind_ of expected Jaime to follow her outside the school’s theater room — they just finished the costume rehearsal and she asked if she could have ten minutes after the end and Mr. Connington said of course as long as they left the clothes back in the changing rooms and they didn’t stay beyond the time janitors were supposed to close up. It was obvious he noticed that she had messed up her lines a few times when she hasn’t since the third rehearsal.

“No,” she sighs, “it wasn’t, I just — guess I’m not adjusted to… _this_ kind of thing?” She gestures at her gown — it’s a better fit on her than she had thought it might, with a large tulle skirt of a pale shade of blue, a high waist just under her breasts that makes them look a bit bigger and darker blue flowers embroidered all over the skirt and the long, bell sleeves. She’s never worn such a _nice_ dress before. She’s halfway sure everyone is going to laugh the moment she comes out in it, even if… she kind of likes it.

“I suppose,” he says, moving closer — he’s wearing a crimson red suit with a white shirt underneath that _really_ brings his hair and eyes out and seems tailor-fit for him, and certainly _no one_ will laugh when they see him in it. “Too bad, though.”

“… Sorry?”

He shrugs, looks to the side. “Uh, that’s — that blue. Nice color. Goes well with your eyes.”

She feels her cheeks turn as crimson as his suit. She wants to ask him if he’s serious… except that it’s been months since they talked after the auditions. She knows he wouldn’t. They spent enough time together on stage and out of it to know he… really, really _wouldn’t_.

“Does it?” She manages to say, feeling like she’ll hyperventilate if she asks an even slightly longer question.

“Yes,” he says, and now he looks so deadly serious, she doesn’t even know what she should say to that.

She breathes in.

“Uh. Thanks, I guess. I just — really?”

“Really, Tarth,” he says, moving a bit closer. “And you can act. _Please_ , no one is going to laugh except my sister’s friends if she snuck them in for that specific reason after she was banned, and if they do they’ll get kicked out, I heard Mr. Connington discussing it with at least three different janitors depending on who gets stuck on checking-that-no-one-destroys-the-stage duty.”

She _has_ to laugh at that. “Well, I can handle them, I think. Is your sister still hung up on… not getting the part?”

“Please,” Jaime shakes his head, “she’s dead envious.”

“… She’s _what_ ,” Brienne repeats. “No way she’s envious of _me_.”

“Oh, you’re slaying at this acting thing and she’s been wanting to headline _some_ school play she could since she was old enough to know what it meant. She can’t get closure on _that_. And honestly, she can die mad about it, never mind that —” He stops, shakes his head. “Sorry. Wasn’t important.”

“… It _sounded_ important, though,” she says a moment later. His hand is twitching against the hem of the jacket and he’s not quite looking at her before he does again. He looks… nervous?

“I think she’s envious of you also because I’m not spending all my damned time focused on just her, and it was the best thing I ever did for myself.” He shakes his head. “She’s… the bad kind of possessive. I guess. And I hadn’t realized how much it was stifling me until she pulled that stint, so. There’s that.”

She swallows, tentatively reaching out to touch his hand, and when his fingers thread with hers she doesn’t know how she doesn’t faint.

He’s also half-blushing and he’s halfway looking at her and halfway trying not to, and fuck, _he_ is flustered? When _she_ has been since they moment they tried that scene…?

“Well, uh,” she manages to blurt, “I, uh. Spending time with you more was… the best thing that happened to me lately, so. There’s that. For what it’s worth. I —”

“Ah, just fuck it,” he says, and then he’s grabbed her sides through the dress and dragged her closer and his hand is behind her head dragging it _down_ slightly, close enough that they could kiss if — “If you don’t want to — just —”

He sounds like he means it.

Brienne is _not_ going to think about Hyle Hunt and his damned bet.

She opens her mouth, not knowing what she should say, but then —

“If I didn’t… I would leave no room for other developments. And… I intend to develop in many directions,” she blurts, hoping that he gets it —

His mouth is on hers a moment later, and no one’s ever kissed her before but he’s being firm and gentle and his hands are slightly shaking and she breathes out before leaning back into it, kissing him back, her hands grasping at his back, and when he moans a little into her mouth she thinks she’ll faint, and wouldn’t it feel nice if for once someone caught her when she did —

When she moves back, it’s obvious that he _did_ want it. No one who didn’t wouldn’t be staring at her like _that_ , with green eyes focused on her, a bit wet, mouth slightly parted and looking like he would just like to kiss her again.

“Good,” he says, “because I’ve just done that… very… _earnestly_.”

She _has_ to laugh at that. “You’re _not_ going to say that. You’re _not_ —”

“What,” he smiles slightly, a hint of pearly white teeth showing between his lips, “that after deciding to go with my gut for the first time in my life I just realized the vital importance of —”

“Oh, _shut up_ ,” she says, and kisses him again so he doesn’t actually _say that_ and makes her laugh so hard the moment will be ruined.

When Davos Seaworth finds them locking lips half an hour later, neither of them has said a word, and they don’t as they take off their clothes, let the poor man close everything up and end up in the nearest back alley making out _again_.

And she has no idea of what happens now, but —

But she thinks she can really get down with this resolution of his of… being _earnest_. She really, _really_ could.

And she has a feeling they’ll both end up kissing on stage for real, but… the thought isn’t half as terrifying as it would have been once.

Fine.

Accepting that audition? Definitely the best idea she ever had. She’ll have to check with him if he’s of the same opinion… but from the way he’s kissing her back _hard_ , she thinks he is.

End.


End file.
